Of France and Other Things
by kamoned
Summary: Lily is in for the best summer ever. Well, that is, until an expected visitor decided to intrude on her happiness. Can she keep her cool? Yeah, no one else thinks so either.
1. Good Things Never Last

**Disclaimer:** Characters and world belong to J.K. Rowling.

**A/N:** So, this is slightly AU, because James is not supposed to have any relatives other than his parents. It's in Lily's POV, which is different because I don't usually do first person. Hopefully this will turn out well. I'm not doing CW anymore. It's in desperate need of revamping, which I'll probably end up doing at a later date. With this fic, however, I'm making a serious effort to have this culturally accurate. So if anyone sees a mistake, please inform me!

**Summary:** Lily is in for the best summer ever. Well, that is, until an expected visitor decided to intrude on her happiness. Can she keep her cool? Yeah, no one else thinks so either.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

Good Things Never Last

* * *

"_The capacity for friendship is God's way of apologizing for our families."_

-Jay McInerney

* * *

This is officially the best summer ever. Literally _nothing_ will be able to ruin my mood today. Seriously.

My best _best_ friend in the entire world (I'll admit her rating has gone up because of this) has just owled me with the best news she could possibly offer. I could _kiss_ her – well, if I wasn't completely straight. Otherwise though…

In all seriousness, Hestia Lauren Jones has saved my life. Without her amazingness, I'd be stuck at home all summer, half-heartedly attempting not to kill my sister. This way, I can be in France _and_ not land myself in prison! Win, win situation, really.

I nearly fell down the stairs as I ran to tell my parents the great news.

"Mum! Dad! I have just received the best news I've ever got!" I hollered, running into the amber colored sitting room where they were watching the telly.

"Really, honey? Better than the time you got your letter?" Mum asked amusedly. I don't see what's so funny, but I couldn't find it in myself to care.

"Nearly!" I grinned happily, standing in front of the telly. Apparently, I was blocking the view, according to Dad's dive to keep his eyes on the screen.

"What is it, then?" she asked.

"Hestia's asked me to France with her! For the entire summer!" For some reason, Mum didn't share my enthusiasm. She stood up and guided me out of the room and into the kitchen (well, as best as she could when I was practically hopping up and down with excitement).

"Now, Lily," she started, using her I-don't-want-to-burst-your-bubble-but-I-have-to voice. "You want to go to France. Alone. For the whole summer. When we barely see you."

Though I knew what she was getting at, I pouted. "You're seeing me now."

Mum shook her head, silently telling me that she didn't mean it like that. "Who's going to be there supervising?"

"Hestia's parents – they go there every summer. Please? With three thousand cherries on top? You'll see all the time next year when I'm outta school. And plus, I'm of age now," I pleaded, getting down on my knees. Yeah, I was willing to go to that length. I widened eyes in an attempt to look extra pitiful.

Mum sighed, realizing that it was a losing battle. "Alright, Lily. But I better get letters from you the entire time."

I cheered, getting up off the floor to throw my arms around her neck, "Yay! Thanks, Mum! This is why you're the best!" I shot her a winning grin.

She chuckled, albeit reluctantly. "And don't you forget it. Now, when are you leaving?"

"So ready to get rid of me, Mum? She's coming to get me on Monday. And we'll be back August 24th. I'm going to go pack, yeah?"

"Of course." I let go of her to sprint out the room and nearly tripped going up the stairs. But we're pretending that didn't happen.

I threw myself on the bed and grinned up at the ceiling, most likely looking like a manic, before remembering all of things I had to do before Monday came around. First things first, I needed to write back to Hestia to tell her of Mum's acceptance.

_Hestia,_

_I CAN COME!_

_You are the most amazing person the face of the planet. You've just helped a poor soul escape from her evil sister. Someone should give you an Order of Merlin._

_Agrippa, I'm so excited, you don't even know. Or maybe you do know. I'm not sure; I'm only one person, but _Merlin_! _

_Can Mary come? Not that this trip won't already be absolutely perfect, but it'll be even more perfect with her. Oh, we're going to have the greatest time! This is why you're my best friend. Because you got me away from Petunia for a summer. I'm seriously considering eloping with you in France. Keep an eye out._

_Lots of love,_

_Lily_

I got my owl, Rissy – who had been locked in her cage up until this point because of Petunia (another thing that will be rectified by this marvelous trip) – and attached the letter to her leg.

"This is for Hestia," I told her, and Rissy took off through the window.

Second order of business: finding a suitable trunk to pack everything in. I was not going to use my Hogwarts one for a number of reasons, the most prominent of which being unpacking it – not something I ever do, so it's not happening now.

Under my bed, I found an unused trunk. The only problem with it, though, was that it appeared to be from my purple phase. Every child, it seems, has an indisputable phase during which they only wear, buy, and use one color. Mine was purple, a color that I may still like, but certainly not in the obsessive way I had as a kid. My room had been painted during the phase, as well. The trunk, as a result, was a nearly offending shade of purple.

I supposed it would just have to do. Petunia's only trunk was also from her color phase and her color was pink. I was not about to deal with that attacking my retinas every second. Besides, knowing her, she wouldn't even lend it to me. And I didn't want to get one of my parents – that would be way too much work.

Now… What do you wear on a trip to France, where there will most likely be French guys, who are known worldwide for their attractiveness? But, at the same time, I can't look like I'm trying too hard, can I?

While I was trying to decide between a tight blue halter top and a loose red t-shirt, Petunia came bursting through my bedroom door. For someone who hates it when I do that very same thing to her, she sure does it shamelessly.

Petunia and I were complete opposites. For most (the exceptions being our parents), it was very hard to believe we were created by the same two people. Petunia had blonde hair; I had red. She had blue eyes; I had green. She was tall and thin; I was short and curvy. But looks were the least of our differences. She was strict; I was lenient. She was neat; I was messy. She was busy; I was lazy. She had to be perfect; I couldn't care less about perfect. In fact, I'm pretty sure the only thing we had in common was stubbornness. And, so, we clashed. To make matters worse, I was a witch and that meant not normal to her. We might've gotten along at some point, but our friendship had been ruined by jealousy and differences.

"What are you doing, freak?" she asked rudely.

I bristled. "Uh, excuse me, but you are the one who just waltzed into _my_ room. I'm not allowed to do that to you, why can you do it to me?" I asked coldly.

Petunia pursed her lips. "Because I can." Oh, older sisters and their twisted ideas of logic. "Now, what are you doing?"

"Packing. For my trip to France with some friends." I smirked as Petunia quickly adopted an expression that looked as if she had just swallowed a lemon. I felt a strange sort of satisfaction – does that make me a terrible, vindictive person? I think it does (but I don't care).

"Since when were you going to…France?" she asked in a strained voice.

"My friend just invited me today."

Petunia's lips pressed into an infinitely thin line. "One of your freak friends?"

"Yeah."

"When you're not even here the rest of the year?"

I swallowed, quickly realizing where she was going with this. "Yeah…"

"God, you aren't even part of this family anymore! You're never here. You're always at that – that – _school_ of yours. And, now, you're going to France. Yet, Mum wants me to make you my Maid of Honor! Shouldn't that be reserved for someone who's actually there?" Petunia asked rhetorically before stomping out of the room, having sufficiently rained on my parade.

To my utter horror, my bottom lip trembled dangerously. I fell down dejectedly on my bed, biting down hard on my lip to make it stop.

Why did she have to ruin everything for me? Petunia's words had stung, more I'd like to admit. She didn't want me to be her Maid of Honor? She doesn't even think of me as _family_?

In no way is it _my_ fault that I'm magical. She can't blame me for something I've been born with. Something I virtually can't control. And, somehow, she does. She makes me feel like shite because of her jealousy.

At school, I'm pushed around for the same thing. If I could do something about, I would. But I can't. Why can't people just accept that?

I exhaled loudly and blinked furiously to keep myself from crying. Crying's stupid, anyway. Who wants to have snot and tears everywhere? It's just disgusting and it doesn't make me feel any better. Crying should just be banished from the universe forever.

Going back to my packing, I picked up the red t-shirt. I briefly contemplated folding it neatly before throwing it into my vividly purple trunk. No one's got time for folding and being neat. At least I don't hide my laziness – I embrace it.

Who knows how many hours filled with clothing (and more clothing) later, I could barely keep my eyes open. Yawning hugely, I navigated my way through the piles and piles of potential outfits and plopped down on my bed. I went to sleep fighting off depressing thoughts starring bitchy sisters with France and all its opportunities.

* * *

Surprisingly, I woke up to the sound of chirping birds and closed curtains. Revealing in the fact that it was about the only time I've ever woken up peacefully, I rolled out of bed. Hitting the floor, quite unexpectedly, succeeded in breaking through my morning haze, unfortunately.

"Lily? You okay?" Mum asked from somewhere downstairs.

"Yeah," I said, groaning. So much for a happy awakening. I rubbed my now sore bum and trudged into the bathroom across the hall shared between me and my sister.

The sudden light destroyed my corneas and I groaned again. "Why is this bloody bathroom so bright?" I muttered. My eyes narrowed on the translucent window letting in the sunlight. "Well, aren't you a little devil?" I smirked, pulling down the shades and sighing in approval.

After I took care of the rest of my person hygiene issues of the morning, I grabbed a brush with a grimace at the red thing (it hardly classified as hair anymore) dominating my head. A few minutes of hacking through the mess painfully, I decided that braiding it would be easier.

My stomach grumbled. "And that would be the hunger," I said to myself, before trekking out of the room and down the stairs. To my confusion, there was no one in the kitchen.

Sparing a glance at the clock, I realized why. It was two thirty in the afternoon. When did I go to sleep last night? I tried to scratch my head and adopt the standard thinking position and instantly regretted it. Too many shortcomings in one morning. Godric.

Cooking would be a waste of my time, especially when lunch was right around the corner. But cereal didn't require any cooking. Not unless you count pouring the milk.

As I sat, staring blankly at the wall and eating the flavorless cereal (who bought this? Mum? Dad wouldn't buy such shite), Petunia entered the room and daintily placed her keys on the counter. Last year, she had bought a car (and by that, I mean, our parents bought it), and she rarely spent time in the house anymore.

I looked up, wiping the milk running down my chin off. Petunia stared at me as if I was some kind of Neanderthal. And I probably was, in her eyes.

"You do realize its two o'clock in the afternoon, right?" she asked with her perpetual pursed lips.

"Yeah," I said.

Petunia hummed in annoyance, rolling her eyes. Next, my Mum entered the room.

"Oh, Lily," Mum said, just registering that I had woken up. "I heard you took a tumble this morning. Or afternoon. Whichever you prefer."

I grinned impishly. "That's what happens when you forget about that floor."

Mum smiled at me before turning to Petunia. "You have fun at Vernon's, dear?"

"Yes," said Petunia in clipped tones, stalking out the room.

I finished off the rest of my cereal and put it in the sink. "Okay, Mum, I think I'm going to go out today."

"Alright. Where you going?"

"I don't know. I just wanna explore the town. Haven't done that in a while," I said truthfully. This had occurred to me as I saw Petunia put down her keys on the counter. Now that I was of age and could Apparate, the world was at my fingertips.

"Okay… Have fun," said Mum good naturedly, though she seemed confused. I went back upstairs to get dressed and was outside in no time. It was surprisingly hot, but I had prepared for that, and wore shorts and a loose shirt.

"Hello, world, I'm Lily Evans." I laughed at my lame joke before letting my feet control me. Unpredictably, I did not (as I would've preferred) end up in the bakery, but instead at the playground of my childhood.

I scolded my feet for their incompetence. They were behind on the times, obviously, because this was the playground Sev – Snape – and I used go to, before…things when bad.

There were two kids playing there today, so I stayed out of their way as sat down on one of the swings hesitantly. I debated the pros and cons of just leaving and going to the bakery when someone sat down next to me.

"I hadn't expected _you_ to be here," the person said loftily. My head whipped around at the familiar male voice of my ex childhood best friend.

"Neither had I," I said in a wary voice.

"Why are you here?" he asked in the same haughty tone. I felt dismayed at it – our friendship was truly gone. I had come to terms with this long ago, but it still hurt.

"This isn't exclusively your playground."

"Well, it isn't _ours_." He sounded bitter.

"You're right. But I can still sit here, if I want."

"You should leave."

"I don't feel any need to, so, no, I'm not going to."

"I suppose you've heard my mother died," he said, after a few moments of silence.

I had. "Yeah." I wanted to say more, but nothing else came.

"I have places to be. Goodbye," he said curtly before going on his way. I thought about the strangeness of that entire encounter, all the while wondering where he could be going.

How had we – best friends – been reduced to this formal coldness?

Snape – he wasn't Sev anymore. Sev had been a lost little boy, Snape was a man engrossed in the Dark Arts. There was no saving him. He had been wandering down that road for a long time, and he was finally where he wanted to be.

The prejudice hadn't helped. We were in two different houses. Two different houses with a long history of hatred between them. We should've known we weren't going to work. On top of that, I was Muggleborn – Mudblood, in his circle. With the war on, Slytherin and Gryffindor tensions ran high and I tore us apart. Especially with everyone else telling us what to do.

People like the Marauders and Avery and Mulciber. The Marauders – don't get me started. They were out of line every time they even attempted to talk to me about my friendship choices. What do they know, anyway? Avery and Mulciber, though, had successfully pulled Snape farther away from me.

And then there was that fateful day by the lake after our O.W.L. exams in fifth year. That was the breaking point. I still can't think back on that incident without wincing and feeling like shite. James Potter and Sirius Black, they make my blood boil, particularly the former. Who he thinks he is, that's what I'd like to know. There's something about him that just _pisses_ me off so much. I can't put my finger on it, though. I reckon it's just him and his damned hair – the eejit.

Sighing, I reminded myself that Monday was tomorrow. Now, where was the bakery? I really need to get out more.

* * *

The rest of the day passed way too slowly for my liking. I spent my time lying hopelessly on the white sofa watching the telly and eating crisps, wishing that time wasn't such a spiteful pain in the arse. For some reason, it liked to slow down at the most inconvenient of times. What a wank stain. Father Time and I will need to be having a serious talk one of these days.

Luckily, Monday arrived as it was supposed to, despite the fact it was three centuries behind schedule. Hestia had sent me an owl in response to my own excited one of Saturday, telling me that she would be coming at noon. This was when time also decided to take a break.

But noon did indeed come before I had to rough it out with Father Time, so it's all good. I ran so fast down the stairs, I didn't notice the discarded pen lying on them until I tripped over it and ended up flat on my face on the landing.

I hate everyone. I really do. Well, except Hestia.

"Lily? Are you okay?" my mum asked.

I scowled, picking myself up. "Just peachy!" Then, I remembered that it was noon and a grin found its way onto my face once again. I resumed the pace I had before the tripping and falling had occurred and traveled to the sitting room. My parents watched, amused, as I parked myself right in the middle of the room.

"Lilybean," Dad said, audibly holding back laughter, "where's your trunk?"

Damn.

"Oh!" I exclaimed going back up the stairs, only to return mere seconds later with the annoyingly purple trunk and Rissy.

"What's up with the color, freak?" Petunia had asked, passing by.

"I'm making a fashion statement." I laughed gleefully skipped back into the room I had just left. My parents exchanged bemused looks.

They hadn't the time to comment, though, because a loud crack rang though the house and a girl with dark, curly hair and brown eyes appeared in the sitting room. I assumed I looked a lot like an excitable puppy at the moment, with a look of unadulterated joy on my face and my hands clasped in front of me.

"Hullo, Evanses!" said Hestia, grinning. I don't think I'd ever been so happy to see her.

"Hest!" I cried, running over to give her hug. She readily complied.

"Lils!" She laughed. Hestia pulled away from my hug (I felt a little indignant, because I give _great_ hugs) and went over to my parents. Presumably, to tell them everything I had already told them.

When she (finally) returned her attention back to me, she grinned. "You ready to go, Lily?"

"I've been ready," I said impatiently. She just laughed.

"Say goodbye then." I did as I was told and went over to give each of my parents a tight hug.

"Sorry for abandoning you with Tuney," I whispered in my Dad's ear.

He laughed. "I'm going to take her fishing. Don't you think she'll love that?" I laughed, too, because we both knew Petunia will have a tantrum when she discovered her and her father's plans for the day.

I turned back to Hestia. "Shall we?"

"We shall," she said, laughing again. "Do you need me to Side-Along you?"

"No – Hest, I've been to your house before."

"Alright," she said before Apparating out of the house with a pop. I waved to my parents once more before turning on the spot. When I opened my eyes, I was in a different room, miles away.

The Jones' family room contained the entire family plus one Mary MacDonald. The Jones' all were conversing between each other excitedly and none of them looked up when we Apparated in, most likely because they had been expecting up. Mary, however, stood up and gave me a hug.

She was a small girl, like me, and had short, mousey brown hair and blue eyes. She looked innocent and vulnerable, and I always felt very protective of her. Despite her appearance, though, she had a large personality, as if to make up for the lost space.

"Hi, Lily," she greeted chirpily.

"Mary!" I grinned. "You got smaller."

"So did you!"

"I'm still taller than the both of you, anyway," interjected Hestia. On cue, Mary and I rolled our eyes.

Hestia's mum, Freya Jones, stood up. "Okay, we're Flooing to the house." The rest of the Joneses stop relaxing on the sofas and joined their matriarch. There was Hestia's older sister, Gwenog, who had graduated from school two years ago and was an aspiring Quidditch player. Alfie, their younger brother, was in his fourth year at Hogwarts, and had two friends with him.

Mrs. Jones (though she had asked me to call her Freya countless times) grabbed a bag of Floo powder that had been resting of the mantelpiece. "You first, Gwenog."

Gwenog obliged, taking some and yelling, loudly and clearly, "Jones Summer Home!" She disappeared in a whoosh of shockingly green flame. Next went Alfie and his fourth year friends. After Hesita and Mary, it was my turn to take a handful of the glittery Floo powder.

Stepping into the fireplace, I commanded, "Jones Summer Home," like my precedents had. I felt as if I was being sucked down, spinning very quickly. The earsplitting roar of the fire accompanied the view of other fireplaces and the rooms they were in. I remembered to keep my elbows tucked in, fortunately, and squeezed my eyes shut, to make it less likely for me to throw up. I never liked Floo travel.

I landed, albeit woozily, in an entirely different sitting room than the Jones' other one. I got out of the fireplace and rested a hand on the wall, keeping my mouth shut tightly. I wouldn't want to upchuck all over the beautiful room. It really was, though. The walls were colored a terra cotta color that matched well with the wood floors. The sofas were peach and made we want to jump on them desperately. Around the room, there were still pictures from past summers – I saw one with Hestia and an unfamiliar girl, both with so much sand in their hair I cringed. The bookcases were filled, but that was not was made me want to jump for joy, as it usually would've have. Open glass doors at the back of the den, revealed the bath in the backyard and a sunny sky.

"Like the house?" Hestia asked me once I my stomach was settled and I could speak again.

"Love it," I said, not lying one bit.

Mary pointed to the picture of Hestia and the girl. "Who's that?" I, too, was very curious as to who Hestia's summer friend was.

"Oh, that's Lucy Benson – my only saving grace during these summers. She's a Muggle and she lives next door. I'll introduce her to you after we finish unpacking, if you want," explained Hestia, pulling us towards the staircase. On the second floor of the house, there were four moderately sized bedrooms.

"You guys will be staying in my room," Hestia said. We all dragged out trunks into the room to see three identical beds in an all-white room, except for the personal pictures decorating the walls. The whiteness for the room brought more attention to irritating purple of my trunk.

Mary stifled a laugh. "What…?"

"Don't laugh at it. I can't have a purple trunk?" I asked, making sure to sound very indignant.

"Not of _that_ shade…" Hestia said, covering her grin with a hand.

"Oh! I know where I've seen that color before – Dumbledore's robes!" Mary exclaimed. Against my will, my lips twitched as I watched my friends laugh at my trunk's expense.

"My trunk has feelings, you know!" I scolded. Addressing my trunk, I comforted, "it's okay. You're color's not stupid. They're stupid."

"You're the one talking to a stupidly colored trunk," said Mary. I glared at her, before giving up on my charade and laughing.

"Do you guys want something to eat?" Hestia asked us.

"Is that even a question?" I retorted. I held out my arms. "Hest, take me to the food."

"Me, as well," Mary said, holding out her arms, too. Hestia laughed at our antics, expecting us to follow her out of the room.

When we finished the biscuits that Mrs. Jones had laid out for us, Hestia suggested we go for a swim. It was night getting late, which makes it that much better. We all got changed into our cozzies and headed outside. It was humid night, though I don't know what I expected.

Mary didn't wait; she dived into the swimming bath with a whoop. Obviously, she didn't think it through (or maybe she did) because Hestia and I got splashed with most of the water. With twin looks of outrage, we both jumped in after Mary, splashing her ruthlessly.

"Hestia!" a voice called. It was unfamiliar to Mary and me, but Hestia seemed to recognize it.

"Lucy?" she asked back. Realization: the voice was of the girl in the pictures. Lucy came jogged over, smiling brightly. She had aged since the picture, obviously. Her straight, ash brown hair was longer and her face was rounder. Lucy also had a protruding nose that looked eerily familiar to me.

Hestia got out of the bath, to give Lucy a hug, probably, but Lucy backed up. "Don't you dare touch me!" she shrieked, using her hands as a barrier between her and Hestia.

Laughing, Hestia turned back to us. "Lucy, these are my friends, Lily Evans and Mary MacDonald."

"Oh! Hi, it's nice to meet you all!" Lucy said cheerfully, grinning. I'm starting to think she says everything cheerfully.

"It's great you brought friends, though, Hestia, because my cousin is here with me. I used to see him all the time before I moved here. His mum sent him here because his dad is sick and she didn't want him worrying – not like he won't anyway. So, he's really moody and annoying right now, but hopefully I can get him out of it. But, this way, we can all hang out together!" She had said all this very fast. Her rambling reminded me of someone – but I can't think who.

Hestia took a few seconds to digest everything Lucy had said. "Okay. Where is he?"

"Oh! I'll go get him!" said the cheerful Lucy before dashing off to her house.

"Why doesn't she have a French accent?" I asked once she had left.

"She had grown up in London, she only moved her when she was ten," Hestia explained.

"Lucy sure talks fast," Mary commented lazily.

"I know. It's hard to keep up sometimes." Hestia laughed, getting back into the swimming bath. Lucy came running back soon after, with –

Simultaneously, Hestia, Mary, and I's jaws dropped.

Because there, in all his messy-haired, bespectacled glory, was James Potter.


	2. The Silver Lining Factor

**Disclaimer:** Characters and world belong to J.K. Rowling.

**A/N:** UUuGHHhH. I have to keep up with wizard culture and British culture. That's more research than I care to do. And then I have to do the French – but that isn't too hard because I learn it at school.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

The Silver Lining Factor

* * *

_Can't help myself but count the flaws_

_Claw my way out through these walls_

_One temporary escape_

_Feel it start to permeate_

-The Naked and Famous. "Young Blood."

* * *

Agrippa!

Does the world ever stop? At this point, it's so bloody obvious that there is some kind of conspiracy keeping me from having a happy life.

CAN I GET A BREAK? No? Alright then.

Potter seemed to notice us. Similarly, his jaw dropped and his eyes widened comically. In any other situation (and by that, I mean, with any other person), I would've laughed.

"Uh, Luce?" he said awkwardly.

"Yeah, Jay?" What's with the nicknames? I could tell Mary was thinking the same thing, if her expression of a slight revulsion was anything to go by.

"I know them already."

Lucy looked at him. "How?"

"From school…"

"They go to Hogwarts?" Lucy turned to us. "You go to Hogwarts? You're witches?"

Hestia, though she looked utterly stunned, found it in herself to reply. "Uh, yeah. A-are you?" Obviously.

"Yeah! I go to Beauxbatons," said Lucy, a furrow appearing in her dark brows. Suddenly, the familiarity of her rambling and her nose made sense to me. "Well, this certainly puts a new perspective on things."

"No kidding." Hestia laughed bewilderedly.

"So are you friends, then?" Lucy asked. Everyone was silent, most likely thinking of Potter and I's (much) less than cordial relationship. I know _I_ was.

"That depends on what you mean by friends," said Potter, chuckling nervously.

"Yeah, if you mean, always screaming at each other, then Lily and James are best mates," Mary said, snorting.

"Oh." Lucy deflated. "Well, I suppose that can be corrected along the way."

Unanimously, Potter and I snorted. I was disgusted afterwards as he smirked. I wonder how long a life sentence in Azkaban really is. "I doubt that," I said.

Lucy sighed, muttering something that sounded like, "I always get the stubborn ones, don't I?"

"Yes," said Potter. She smacked his arm.

"I wasn't talking to you."

Potter held up a hand. "I know," was all he said before he stalked away – a far cry away from his usual strut. And, usually, he'd have a lot more to say. I mean, he's James Potter, completely incapable of shutting up. Lucy looked after him, a sad look on her face.

"What was that about?" Mary asked, probably thinking along the same lines as I was.

"I told you he was moody," explained a disgruntled Lucy. "I'll come back tomorrow. I'm supposed to keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn't do anything rash." She rolled her brown eyes before following Potter.

"Well… That quite the plot twist," Mary remarked idly.

"I can't believe I didn't notice it before," said Hestia. "Huh."

"What? The relation to Potter?" I said.

"Of course, _you'd_ focus on that," Mary muttered. I opted to ignore her, for her own future health.

"No, the fact that she's a witch. All those years of pretending to be a Muggle, for nothing," Hestia said. "But she did look familiar to me. Really, everything is just clicking in my mind."

"While we're on the subject," Mary said in a matter-of-fact tone, "what in the name of Merlin was with those nicknames? 'Luce'? 'Jay'? Absolutely disgusting."

We all laughed a bit at that.

"They're cousins. What'd you expect?" Hestia asked amusedly.

"No revolting nicknames." We laughed again, but this time my own was more subdued. I suppose the implications of Potter's existence had just hit me, full force. He would ruin our vacation, I know he would. The one summer I go somewhere, I can't even escape him!

Mary seemed to sense my feelings for she splashed me with as much water as she could get and all thoughts of Potter were washed away in an instant with a moment of clarity. He _wouldn't_ be able to ruin my holiday. Only if I let him get to me, which never happens. Really.

Besides, I wouldn't really have to see or talk to him at all. This would still be the best trip ever, it would.

I splashed Mary back. Somehow, it evolved into a full on slashing war, with Mary and I ganging up on Hestia. She had her back turned idiotically, and we pounced on her, leaving no room for her to fight back.

"Lily! Mary!" she shrieked helplessly. We just grinned and laughed (and I got water in my mouth), still splashing her. "Stop!" she cried, trying to take control of the situation fruitlessly.

"No!" we yelled. In the end, we had trounced her soundly, without question. The only reason we stopped, truly, was because Mrs. Jones wanted us to go to sleep. But I wasn't complaining – winning is tiring. Mary was, though.

"Freya," she moaned, "it's only…nighttime!" I laughed at her terrible reasoning.

"You're supposed to sleep at nighttime, if you didn't already know," Mrs. Jones said dryly.

Mary grumbled but did not respond.

"C'mon, Mare, this way we can have more fun in the morning," said Hestia. Mary didn't argue this fact and we went upstairs without trouble, other than Mary's frequent mutterings. As it turns out, Mary was right, for the first time in a long while. I couldn't fall asleep.

She must've sensed my trouble, for she said," You awake, Lil?"

"Yeah," I whispered back.

"So we're all awake, then?" Hestia asked unexpectedly.

"Apparently," I said in a mock horrified tone.

Hestia laughed quietly. "So tell me about your summers so far," she said excitedly.

"Uh, Hest, I don't know if you realize, but we've only been apart for three weeks," said Mary wryly.

"Well, I don't know what happened in those three weeks, do I?" Hestia said in a voice eerily reminiscent of my sister's when she knows she's right.

Mary grumbled and did not reply.

"I was at home. Dying a slow death," I offered.

"From what?" asked Mary.

"Death by sister," I said in a grim tone, shaking my head.

"My condolences," Hestia said, mockingly serious.

"Well, I had some fun at home. I saw Reg a couple times," Mary supplied. Reginald Cattermole was Mary's longtime boyfriend, since fourth year. Their relationship was a bit sickening, to me.

"I saw Fenwick and Dearborn. They're still pricks, unfortunately," said Hestia. I laughed – Benjy Fenwick and Caradoc Dearborn were friends of ours in Ravenclaw. They, as Hestia had intelligently put it, were complete pricks, but we loved them anyway.

"I expected as much," I said. "Marlene wrote to me earlier in the holiday. Apparently, Marlene's dating Caradoc again. Did you know, Hest?"

"Oh, yeah, he told me." She snorted. "That won't last, for sure."

"Did it ever last?" asked Mary, snickering. "The only potential I ever saw in the relationship is their ability to snog in front of everyone and not care."

I grimaced. "I caught them in a broom closet once. They were _completely_ unashamed."

"That's McKinnon for you." Hestia sniggered.

"Hest, did I tell you?" asked Mary suddenly. "I saw supposed to go to Spain this summer."

"Then why are you here?" Hestia asked the same question I had been pondering myself.

"Because I love you so. Just thought you should know, as I ditched Spain for this trip." The smugness in Mary's tone was nearly unbearable.

"Yeah, but I'd be willing to bet you just came here because you wanted to get away from that mother of yours, Mare," Hestia countered.

Mary wouldn't have anything to argue that point with – Mary often lamented on how much she just wished her mother would drop dead. I'm sure she doesn't mean it literally (because who actually wants their mother dead?), but Mary did not enjoy being in her mother's presence. She and her mother fought over little things, most because they were complete opposites. Mrs. MacDonald was all for being proper and classy, but Mary despised such things. I suppose that Mary wasn't her mother's ideal daughter, as terrible as that thought was. Mrs. MacDonald, anyone could tell, would've preferred a daughter who was, like her, of high-class and impeccable grace – nothing like the boyish and ungainly one she had.

"Ah," Mary sighed grimly. "Why do you always find my ulterior motives?"

"You're fairly obvious." I chuckled quietly at that one.

"What, Lil? Got something to say, Miss Tomato? You're the most bloody transparent person I've ever met!" Mary exclaimed teasingly, looking extremely insulted.

"'Miss Tomato'?! I'm not that bad, really!" I cried in protest, but I think we all knew I was lying. Truth is, I blush regularly, at anything and everything. It's rather annoying actually – I don't have a way to hide my feelings at all.

"Yeah, you know, water's not that wet, really, either," said Mary. Hestia sniggered loudly. I rolled my eyes at them – some friends, honestly. Can't a girl get some respect around here? Or is that too much to ask?

"If you're just gonna take the piss, let's talk about something else. Like, how was your summer Hestia?" I asked in a falsely tone that they were sure to be familiar with, as it was heard so often, it was official named the Dangerous Territory Voice.

Mary coughed, recognizing that she was digging her own grave, and Hestia sobered immediately. "Fine. Gwenog was being quite the cow, though. Ever since she got onto the Holyhead Harpies, the bloody bint, she's been absolutely insufferable. She's only second string. Not too impressive, if you asked me."

"Then why is she on this trip?" I asked, with a faint hint of my Dangerous Territory Voice.

"I don't know. She said she wanted to spend time with her family before she moves out and stuff. She shoulda moved out a long time ago, I think. I mean, she's what? 20? And she's gonna be with the Harpies a large deal now, I suspect. Whatever, I don't care much, anyway. She's only staying for a week or so," Hestia ranted.

"Oooh," Mary sing-songed, "it sounds a bit like _someone's_ jealous…"

"Who? Her? Because it certainly – you know what? Yes. I am jealous. But who wouldn't be? That's the real question here. But, at least, I'll get free tickets to games."

"This, ladies, is a phenomenon known as the Bright Side. Always look for it," said Mary seriously.

I snorted. "That is astoundingly insightful on your part, Mary." I yawned involuntarily.

"Aww, is someone tired?" Mary mocked.

"Yes," I said coolly. She laughed, entirely unfazed.

"Let's go to sleep, then, for poor, _poor_, Lily Evans' sake," said Mary, but her yawn ruined it. Hestia let out a short bark of laughter.

* * *

I was vaguely aware of the fact that my hair was a complete mess when I floated down the stairs and into the kitchen, navigated by the irresistible smell of eggs and bacon.

"Lily," Mrs. Jones greeted as I sat down next to Mary at the table. There was no one at the table except Mary and Hestia, strangely.

"The rest are sleeping or, in Gwenog's case, out on the town," Mary explained, seeing my look. I nodded my comprehension – the rest were fourth years and/or fathers. Of course they would sleep in.

Mrs. Jones laid a plate in front of me and left up the stairs. I was about to eat when I realized that both Hestia and Mary were staring at me, the latter with a look of slight distaste.

"What?" I asked defensively. Hestia snorted quietly, but remained silent. Good girl. Mary, on the other hand, laughed obnoxiously. Sometimes, I wonder why we still keep her around.

"Your," she appeared to search for the right word, "current appearance," she managed through giggles. I tried to flatten my hair a bit, glaring at her.

"You can hardly expect me to look like a supermodel _all_ the time," I said, shoving my nose in the air. I heard Hestia snort again, except this time much louder.

"I've never expected you to look like a supermodel, if we're being honest," said Mary, still cackling irritatingly.

I chose not to answer, instead giving her a hard stare. When Hestia snorted, yet again, however, I turned my frosty glare on her.

"Would you like to comment, Hest?" I used my Dangerous Territory Voice and smirked when Hestia recoiled.

"Not at all, Lily dearest." She smirked unexpectedly. "I must say, though, your hair looks positively _ravishing_ on this fine morning." Oh. Insult to injury. Mary coughed in a misguided attempt to hide her amusement.

It was a testament to Hestia's Gryffindor placement when she didn't cower at my most deadly glare – the one I had personally named the Last Chance Look, seeing as I usually took the time to fire a Bat-Bogey Hex after this stage in an altercation. Potter is well acquainted with this look, unsurprisingly.

"Don't push your luck, Hestia," I said simply. Around this time, Hestia should've burst into flame, since I was utilizing both my Last Chance Look and Dangerous Territory Voice 2.0 (the updated version, used only for the most serious of arguments, created shortly after Potter charmed mistletoe to follow us around).

I was extremely happy when she returned to her food. Satisfied, I continued to eat my food. That is, I _was_ satisfied, until Mary opened her exceptionally large mouth once again.

"But it really does look rather lovely, doesn't it, Hest?" Some people really don't learn. Acting on complete impulse (it wasn't planned at all), I chucked a portion of my eggs (but not too big, because I still wanted to eat it) at her. It hit her on the cheek, to my job. I suspect the universe was working in my favor then, because it was obvious she was antagonizing me. I was just being perfect little Lily Evans and I was attacked on account of my usually gorgeous red hair. I shouldn't be held responsible for my actions.

Mary, the _slag_, acted as if my attack was completely unprecedented. "Lily!" she shrieked, wiping the eggs off her face. I was sure to use my blankest face as I looked at her. I had to bite my lip to keep from smirking. This was just what you get when you mess with me. I hope she understands and watches herself next time.

"What?" I asked innocently as Hestia roared with laughter.

Mary glared at me. "Don't think I won't get you back."

"You can't get someone back for revenge, you daft cow! That just garners more revenge and that's what makes grudges," I said intelligently, as I was far too acquainted with this theory.

"Profound," said Hestia, before she burst into hysterics again.

"And, as you were provoking me, I was not the one in the wrong," I continued.

Mary seemed exasperated. "You just threw eggs at my _face_!" she argued. "I could be permanently damaged from this! I could get – um – Protein-in-face-itis!"

"Oh! I've heard of that! It's also commonly referred to as 'Too-much-bullshit-itis," I said and Hestia was set off again.

"Sod off," Mary grumbled, rubbing the offended area on her face defensively, as if there was a bruise there.

After Hestia finally stopped her giggling, she asked, "What d'you guys want to do today?"

Mary shrugged. "Don't know. I thought you were the trip coordinator," said Mary, leaning back and pushing her now-clear plate forward. Hestia collected all of our plates and put in the sink to be washed later.

Hestia's hands got comfortable on her hips. "I wanted to know what you guys wanted to do, first."

"We could go into the town," I suggested, "see things."

"Eat things," Mary added with a grin. I chose not to comment on the fact that she had just eaten only moments ago.

"Alright. Actually, there are some great stores –" Hestia was interrupted by the phone ringing. "Hello?" she asked upon answering it.

I was momentarily blindsided by the fact that Hestia was so good with Muggle appliances that I almost didn't catch the voice on the other side. I recognized the high-pitch as the bubbly voice of Lucy Benson. Potter's cousin. _Great_ (note: sarcasm).

"Lucy! Hi!" Hestia replied to whatever Lucy screeched. "Uh huh… We were just going to go out on the town today…" Merlin, Hestia, if you invite her and Potter, I'll disown you! "Of course you can come!" Bugger. "Alright, see you in an hour!" Hestia hung up the phone and grinned at us.

"Lucy and James will be here in an hour," she said.

Mary snorted. "Yeah, I don't think I could've gathered that from 'see you in an hour'," she said dryly.

"Shut up, Mary," Hestia said. "What I meant was, we should get dressed." She sent a pointed look my way.

"Race ya!" Mary exclaimed, running up the stairs. Hestia looked bemused, but I ran after her. Staying to exchange amused looks will get you nowhere, I had learned quickly into Mary and I's friendship.

* * *

Mary had been the one to get into the shower first, to my great disappointment. But it didn't matter as much to me, because I still was before Hestia. She's such an amateur, I thought as I strolled into the den. Mary was lying in a chair haphazardly.

Her head was facing my feet when I came in and she lifted a bit to see who I was. "Oh. Lillian." She resumed her what-looked-comfortable-but-I-couldn't-be-sure position on her chair.

"That's not my name," I said, sinking into the peach sofa with a sigh.

"You say that like I care."

"You should. You know, to ensure your continued wellbeing and all."

"I'll look into that."

"I'd advise it. Especially with your record."

"My record is impeccable."

"Hardly."

Mary huffed petulantly. "Lillian –"

"Not my name."

"You interrupted my angry tirade for _that_? Disgrace, Lillian Evans. Disgrace on your family, too."

I sighed. "Mary John Edward MacDonald."

"My middle name is _Elizabeth_."

"I don't remember asking for your middle name."

"Well, you got it. Congratulations. Would you like a biscuit?"

My brows furrowed. "Um, yeah, actually."

"We'll have to remember to get some of those today. Along with croissants."

"Mm. Many croissants."

"Oh yes." She smacked her lips hungrily. "_Bonjour_," she said in a heavy French accent, though it was hardly in context.

"You do know that means 'good morning', right?"

"And 'hello'. Don't forget 'hello'."

"Perish the very thought."

"What are you guys talking about?" a new voice entered the conversation. Hestia sat down on my legs, to my annoyance.

"Perishing thoughts and the like," said Mary lazily.

"Oh. I suspect it was enlightening?"

"Extremely," I said, still trying to push Hestia off me.

"So, what do we want to do in town?" she asked. "Or, _que __voulons__-nous __faire __en __ville__?_"

"You know French?" Mary asked incredulously.

"I've been coming here for a very long time. Of course I know French. Now, what?"

"I want croissants and biscuits," I said, giving up on my perilous plight.

"I second that," said Mary.

"Alright. Then, it's settled –"

A bubbly and voice that I instantaneously recognized joined up. "_Bonjour __mes __amies__!_" Lucy.

"_Salut,__ Lucy! __Comment __ça __va__?_" Hestia answered. Lucy waltzed into my field of view, dragging a sulking Potter along behind her. I wondered why before I remembered what Lucy had said last night. _"...his dad is sick...he's really moody and annoying right now…" _Agrippa, imagine how much worse he'll be now, if even she calls him annoying! Ugh.

"_Parfait!_" Lucy exclaimed, throwing her arms out gleefully. I caught Potter's quiet snort and Lucy must've heard it too because she turned to him sharply.

"Got something to say, James?" she asked him, elbowing his stomach. Potter raised his eyebrows, attempting to look innocent, and shook his head, as if to say, "You're delusional." She rolled her eyes and smacked his shoulder. Hm. I think she might not be as bad as I had originally thought.

"One more foot out of line, James Potter, and I'm hexing your stupid arse back to England," Lucy warned, glaring at him. I sniggered. Okay, she definitely was better than I thought.

Potter's attention switched to me, and I instantly regretted my lack of self-control (though I usually have a lot – it must be off because of France, different country and all). I silently challenged him to say something, and he relented, surprisingly. Oh. The upper hand feels nice, really. This might end up being fantastic after all, even if Lucy is too bubbly and Potter…exists. Mary had said last night to look at the bright side of things. So maybe I will. I'm good at that, too.

"Can we go?" asked Mary impatiently. "I want croissants!"

"Alright, let's go," Hestia agreed, always the leader. We left the house, and I kept a careful distance from Potter so I wouldn't be too tempted to say something to him. You know, after he provoked me, which he would undoubtedly do.

When we were in the small town that Hestia's home was near, I spent most of the time admiring the scenery. The sky was blue, punctuated with increments of seemingly fluffy cloud. There were many people walking around on the pavement laughing and talking to each other in their language that I had an increasingly large desire to learn. To my great surprise, most people weren't artist, wearing gigantic berets and eating bread. There weren't even too many tandem bikes being ridden. It felt a bit like a disappointment, in my book.

Lucy and Hestia knew most people there. We were forced to stop every two centimeters for them to ask someone how they were. "Croissants, Hest, croissants!" Mary whined at such occasions, though she was ignored. But, her prayers were finally answered when we entered a pastry shop, originally because the owner was a sweet man that Hestia just _had_ to see.

The croissants did look really good, so I couldn't really blame Mary for drooling over them the way she had. Chocolate croissants, though, appeared to be the best. We ordered some at sat down at a table.

I fanned myself. "It's really unnecessarily hot in here."

"Yeah, I know. It feels like 100 degrees in here," Mary said, though she was greedily devouring her croissants like a man who hadn't eating in twelve years.

"Technically," I said, "we wouldn't be able to live at 100 degrees."

"Shut up, Lily. No one likes a swot." Potter snorted at this and I turned to him challengingly. He was sitting across from me with Lucy and also eating chocolate croissants (I didn't want to get the same thing as him, but my stomach, evidently, is more stubborn than me).

"I didn't say anything," he said.

I rolled my eyes. "Don't try to act innocent. Everyone knows you haven't been innocent a day in your life, Potter."

"That is true, Evans, I'll admit, but I didn't say anything." My pride was interfering with my rationality and self-control. There was nothing I could do at that point. But I was provoked. Remember that.

"Yes, you did. You laughed," I argued back, loosely aware of the fact that the rest of the table was watching us warily.

"Yes, I merely _laughed_. I hardly think that qualifies as talking."

"Well, I say that it does. So there."

"Why, if Lily Evans says so, then it must be true. I'd forgotten that you were the most powerful force in the universe."

Shocking the both of us, I chuckled. I guess I shouldn't have been too shocked, because I'm not one to deny myself the simple pleasures of life, such as laughing at a joke. "I'm glad we're on the same page, then." I smirked.

"But, of course," he continued as if I had not spoken, "if _I'm_ right, as usual, then what I say beats whatever you say, no?"

"Yeah, I don't think that's how it works."

"Hm. Then I guess we're in a bit of a pickle."

"Evidently."

"May I propose a solution?"

"Certainly."

"You could just, you know, admit that I'm right."

"I find it hard to do that when _I'm_ right."

He scoffed. "I'm right."

"Are not."

"Am too."

"Are not."

"Am too!"

"Are not!"

"Am –"

"Could you two not be immature right now? I'm trying to enjoy my food and I can't with you fighting," Mary interrupted impatiently. "But feel free to flirt when I'm not around."

I was indignant immediately, but I didn't get to voice my protests, because Lucy spoke. "I think it's cute, Mary. For a love story kind of thing, anyway."

Potter and I snorted simultaneously, but I barely noticed this time. "I wouldn't go _that_ far," he said, while I said, "You're barmy."

"Really," I continued, "stark raving _mad_."

"Well, not entirely mad," said Potter. I gaped at him.

"You wank stain, Potter," I said, figuring he was joking. He couldn't still fancy me – could he? No, it's not possible. He had asked me out once, and he had played that off as a joke.

The subject was dropped soon but the idea of Potter fancying me poked at the back of my head incessantly. It gave me a funny feeling in my stomach, which I attributed to the fact that it felt nice to be liked. Even if it was by such a bloody wanker of a boy. But this fancying thing would explain so many things. I should watch his actions more closely to see if he really does.

* * *

_Mum,_

_I can't thank you enough for letting me come on this trip! I'm having so much fun already! Who knew croissants tasted so good?_

_Though I'm having a great time, I really miss you and Dad. I can't wait to see you guys again in August. I know it must've been hard for you to send me after not seeing for most of the year already. But I'm really grateful. Keep in mind – this is my happiness on the line._

_I've been learning some French from Hestia, who speaks it fluently. There's a girl next door ( she's a witch too, who knew?) coming to help her teach Mary and I. Her name is Lucy. She's really nice._

_How are things with Petunia and Dad? Are you still sane, I wonder? I miss you and love you all so much!_

_Ta __fille__,_

_Lily_

* * *

**French Translations:**

Bonjour – Good morning, hello

Que voulons-nous faire en ville? – What do we want to do in town?

Bonjour mes amies – Hello my friends

Salut, Lucy – Hi, Lucy

Comment ça va? – How's it going?

Parfait – Perfect

Ta fille – Your daughter


End file.
